Author Topic: Stories by the Fireside  (Read 14767 times)

Offline Krozam

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Stories by the Fireside
« on: August 21, 2011, 01:00:04 am »
The Wings of Hall - Stories by the Fireside

It was ixlone's suggestion, that I start a topic where the players can post stories of their characters. Imagine our mercenary band comfortably settled in a high-class inn, sitting on a table by the crackling fire, enjoying a good dinner and perhaps having a few drinks... and finally loosening up enough to exchange stories of their past. Here, the rules are different, because we're technically writing short stories, not role playing. You can put words in the mouth of another player's character (though it's always polite to ask first, and it's easier to keep in character if you cooperate with the owner of the character). You can tell stories of the time before your character joined the band, or stories of the band's adventures, or legends of your character's homeland, whatever you like. It's an excellent way to deepen your character and develop the world we're playing in.
« Last Edit: August 21, 2011, 01:47:01 am by Krozam » - anime | reviews
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Offline tigershark13

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Re: Stories by the Fireside
« Reply #1 on: August 21, 2011, 01:48:57 am »
Cathair leant back in his chair as the conversation came to a momentary lull, taking a long swig from his mug full of a fowl tasting swill. He smirked and looked at the others, giving Aidan a particularly unpleasant look before he spoke in a gruff, slightly drunk, voice. "I wonder, 'ave any of ya 'eard the story of the last great Ard Ruine of Dalradia?" he looked around the room and laughed a little "Ah, wait, yer all foreigners, a' course ye ain't, Well 'ave I got a treat fer you?" Cathair stood and began relating the story of the Ard ruine, making dramatic hand movements and almost knocking out the bar wench by accident.

It was 150 years ago in the blood stained and torn lands of Dalradia and Tylwythau Treftadaeth Etifedd. Our story begins in Dalradia, where the Great Ard Ruine, known as Chullain had risen to power, uniting the fractured Dalradian people under his banner and god, the great Wolf, howling to the blood moon. He had taken Dalradia in a sea of blood, slaughtering any local lord foolish enough to oppose him, crushing rebellions and bringing all under his heel within a space of 20 years.

Once he had completed his conquest, anointed the Dalradian lands in the blood of her people, he turned his gaze to Tylwythau Treftadaeth Etifedd and 3 years later, at the beginning of the war season, the mightiest Dalradian host seen in centuries marched to war, thousands of men, united under the wolf fell upon Tylwythau Treftadaeth Etifedd, slaughtering every village and burning it to the ground, getting revenge upon the enemy that had thwarted them for so long, defied them for so long. The mighty host tore through the heart of Tylwythau Treftadaeth Etifedd devastating the country side, town after town fell, followed by the fortresses and for nearly a year, the Dalradian host went unchallenged, and the lands fell firmly under the control of Chullain.

But the men of Tylwythau Treftadaeth Etifedd used the winter to prepare, and while the Dalradian horde had taken over half of Tylwythau Treftadaeth Etifedd in just a year, slaughtering most of the peoples of her lands, they had finally united, a great army prepared to stop Chullain.

Spring broke, and despite increased resistance Chullain's armies continued to push forward, leaving destruction and chaos sown in their wake and in the summer of that 2nd year of Chullain's war, victory was within his grasp, the closest any Ard Ruine, any Dalradian, had ever come to finally destroying the Tylwythau Treftadaeth Etifedd. The fighting had been hard. hundreds had died in the bloody war of attrition that he had been forced to fight, but slowly he had pushed the tribes back to the eldars meeting place, their sacred ground, the place of their gods. If he could crush the enemy here, they would be truly destroyed, truly routed. And this land would belong to the Ard ruine.

The armies of Tylwythau Treftadaeth Etifedd were tired, demoralized, they had been pushed further and further back due to poor organization and communication, but now they were united, tired, battered, and weak, but united, and with their backs against the walls, if they lost here, they lost the mandate of the gods. It was truly Tylwythau Treftadaeth Etifedd's darkest hour.

This battle was to be the largest and greatest of the war, of any war in Dalradia's long history. Thousands of men on either side lined up, the great Chullain stood at the head of his armies, wearing his armour proudly, the blood stained banner of the wolf waving above the armies...

It is said there was a moment of quiet, utter and total calm before the battle, the speeches had ended and the men prepared themselves for their deaths. It is said Chullain himself cut his hand and fed his blood to the icon hanging from his neck, the great wolf howling at the sky, before the battle began.

The moment of calm was short lived, for at noon a great cry went up from the Dalradian host and they charged their entrenched enemy, the climb up the hill was a costly one, javalins and arrows blackening the sky as the great hosts fought, spilling the ground of the gods with their blood. The Dalradian armies charged the gateway to the holy meeting place for three days, and for three days they failed, thousands died.

But on the third day, a breech was made, by Chullain himself, and in his foolish arrogance he charged through with his vanguard, his most trusted allies, to finish the slaughter, to take the enemies gods, and to take his place as king of Tylwythau Treftadaeth Etifedd... But alas, this was not to be. The break in the enemies shield wall had been a trick, and the breech was closed, trapping Chullain on his own at the lower entrance of the fortress.

His surrander was demanded, and Chullain refused, charging headlong at the enemy, a great battle ensued in the entrance itself, outnumbered 3-1 Chullain fought desperately with his men, felling scores personally, spilling the ground with blood, while his allies tried to force their way through to help... for three hours this raged on, and at the second strike of the bell of the third hour, Chullain fell, just as his men broke through, Chullain fell, just as victory could have been within his grasp, Chullain fell...

Although they had taken the lower entrance, and slaughtered thousands of the enemies, the battle was lost, as news of his death spread the Dalradian army fell apart in front of the men of Tylwythau Treftadaeth Etifedd, large portions of it retreated back to their homes, even larger portions fell into fighting right outside the gate, as old rivalries and squabbles now lay unchecked, the gains made were squandered, Chullain's legacy was destroyed as civil war engulfed Dalradia once again and the land slipped into unchecked chaos as if Chullain had never taken power.

Chullain's body was borne home by the Vanguard so that they could enter mourning, and more importantly, return his icon to his son. So that his son may continue Chullain's cause, so that his blood may fight in the name of the Wolf, so that once again... the Wolf could unite all of Dalradian blood under it's banner, and wreak destruction across the land.

Caithair looked uncharacteristically sad as he finished, if one didn't know better one would have sworn there was a tear in his eye. He sat down silently and one hand went to his shirt, clutching at his pendant beneath the fabric. He didn't say another word all night.